Lived For Nothing
by Amatyultare
Summary: Why do people change? Why may heroes become villains? My attempt to understand Rendon Howe.


_**A/N: **__I always wondered why Howe did what he did. DA:O showed that there is always something more behind the words, actions and thoughts. I just wanted to see why. It's not an attempt to avow Rendon How. I believe he received an end he deserved and what he would reach anyway._

_P.S. You certainly may hate me for that

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Screams, screams… screams all over…

Skirls of prisoners are lancing deafly along the empty corridors. These miserable ones are groaning, squealing and howling with their disability and anger. He doesn't care for it… it even calms him down. These screams will never be like the death cries of his friends and comrades-in-arms beside White River, the waters of which became murrey with their gore…

Rendon Howe is afraid of silence. It crushes and chokes. In the depths of night he hears clanking of shields and swords, imagines Bryce's and Eleanor's faces. In the dark a young fellow with pale because of the excitement face, who was working round and round his friends, like a ghost, an invisible keeper, favoring their retreat, awakens in him.

Fifty. Fifty outworn, broken people for a wonder cheated death. Hundreds were slaughtered.

Rendon Howe is walking alone, unaccompanied, along the corridors of Fort Drakon. The skirls of dyings are cutting the silence, like poisoned blades. That's good. It makes him feel better.

"Cry, cry… You won't outcry those who have already gone."

A dark, cold smile. A hollow, but glaring look.

The best went to the grave. The weak remained. How comes it? Why the best are dead and these are alive? Where are your eyes, Maker?

"And I'll tell you, Maker. You are blind. You don't see a blessed thing and you don't care for us, for nullities. You've unlearned how to create, and you've never known how to lead."

And he chuckles. If even the Almighty himself refuses to do something, it must be him, Rendon Howe, who will spearhead His flock of sheep.

"So many years in the shade… so many years are lived for nothing."

He thought that teyrn Loghain was still the same temerarious youth, capable of getting to splenetic banns and shaking up lazy, scared ploughmen. That he was still the same man who was ready to throw the great cast, who didn't know doubts and regrets.

But that was a lie. Loghain is weak. Howe sees how his hands are shaking, when he's spreading out a new map. How he's walking up and down for hours, muttering something to himself, as if he's talking to an invisible companion. How his eyes hold desperation.

Loghain Mac Tir is confident of nothing. The legendary warrior is afraid of making a mistake. He is weak, and the main of his weaknesses is the Queen.

Anora doesn't understand anything herself. She weaves plots, hides in the shadows and appears in sunlight. She tries to resist and shows her thorns. But a rose can always be deflowered and broken.

"The life is lived for nothing. Everything was spent on serving fools and weak-willeds."

And for this White River became Red?

Howe remembered the beginning of the struggle. Remembered, how he and his father were leered. They were being called orlesian dogs and everybody was trying to let daylights into them. And the Orlesians were baiting and tracking them, wasting their country, slaughtering children before parents' eyes. Nobody stood up and squared his shoulders. They all were saying that they needed to bear. The Howes didn't want to bear. Ahead, following Maric, the true king! Ahead, following Rowan, the brave daughter of Ferelden! Ahead, following Loghain, the freedom and hope!

He's doubling his fists. For what was it all? Why did he stop seeing Bryce once? Why instead of him he saw only a Cousland?

"The blood is spilt for nothing. The country lies in ruins, and there is nobody who could rule it."

Loghain and Anora will not be able to. They will not retain the power. After all, in banns' eyes they are just commoners. The teyrn, maybe, is still a hero, but he, Rendon Howe, is either. And his family is one of the most ancient in Ferelden.

Anora is here, locked. He may anytime…

The teyrn is another case, it'll be more difficult… But possible as well… Before he learn the truth…

The evidence will be enough for. The Grey Wardens will be here soon.

If only the teyrn thinks better… Then it won't be necessary…

"The time is spent for nothing. What will be after? Orlais won't be waiting."

The Grey Wardens… All that you can is to leave wives to die slowly from grief and sons to bury those who deserved life more than anybody else. You deny everything. You don't care for tears and prayers anight. And he wanted to believe so much…

The Arl of Amaranthine opens the door, determined. A dark woman stands up immediately and bows her head deferentially.

"Ser Cauthrien. You have news from the teyrn?"

Cauthrien hesitates. She keeps silent and gasps for air.

He folds his arms and gives her a quizzical look.

"Your Lordship… I've got bad news. Your son… Thomas… There was a massacre on the Amaranthine barrier. Bann Bedwin attacked the Arling. Thomas was defending your lands. He… he perished. The teyrn commiserates."

Silence. Screams again…

Thomas, a good, kind boy… No… He couldn't…

Rendon Howe did everything to keep Thomas and Delilah out of trouble. They were too pure for the war. It's a lie… Nathaniel was different, he was strong. But Thomas…

"I'm so sorry. You know… they say he died as a hero…

"Get off," he whispers. "Get out of here."

Cauthrien went away, leaving him alone with silence. Ghosts of Bryce and Eleanor appeared from the moonlight. Tears in Eleanor's eyes. Bryce heaves a sigh.

The life is lived for nothing. He can't even protect his children.

You'll be charge of that as well, the Grey Wardens.

Screams, screams… screams all over.


End file.
